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Almost caught up on “They Coulda’ Been Great.” Here is our August and September on Facebook… (What is this? All answers are HERE.)

August 1

9:24 a.m.

“Hey Mom! Is it time to check my planters warts?”

#TheGlamorousLife

9:45 a.m.

I’m now on Day 3 of putting on exercise clothes with the intention of exercising. Fingers crossed for Day 1 of actually exercising…

4:19 p.m.

The amount of time I spend texting with other mothers about where our children are in the neighborhood (“just left my house on bikes – are they at your house now?“) brings me back to my conference planner days spent running around an exhibit hall with a radio glued to my ear. I’m THISCLOSE to texting them stuff like, “Cathy – what’s your 20?”

6:05 p.m.

Scene: Three mothers are talking while children play upstairs.

They hear dramatic shrieks.

Conversation stops as all freeze and tilt their heads prairie dog style to assess the quality of shrieks and what that might mean.

Mother #1: Sounds joyous…but possibly dangerous…

Mother #2 and #3: [Get up and go to check it out.]

Mother #1: Continues to drink wine.

End scene.

Pop quiz: Which mother am I?

August 2

12:43 p.m.

A few minutes ago, anyone who saw me in my car would assume that I was rocking out. Probably wondered why they couldn’t hear me through the window. Given the chance, I’d explain that I was actually whispering lyrics since “the singing police” in the back seat (Oliver) was ruining Jesse’s Girl for me with his complaints. WHO doesn’t sing along to Jesse’s Girl? I MEAN…

August 4

5:29 p.m.

Anyone ever deal with a missing hermit crab? A few hours ago, we noticed that Mr. Krabs escaped. Searched…but as of yet – he is still at large. Suggestions?

A: The Jeopardy answer to, “the number of times each day Kate Googles something she sees on social media because she’s never heard of it before.”

Q: What is, “what is approximately 5.”

A: The Jeopardy answer to, “the number of times Kate tries to type ‘Jeopardy’ correctly before she finally gives up and consults Google.”

6:54 p.m.

So our dog, Alice has been having some stomach issues since we got back from the beach. The accidents have made me want to move, and what she does when we take her on walks make me vow to NEVER walk barefoot on grass again.

I was JUST thinking that it may be time for a visit to the vet, when Eleanor told me that she thought we should move a Costco-size bag of cheap dog food we bought a while back and then put in the basement when after two days we decided it made dog walks…unpleasant for those of us holding the plastic bag.

Eleanor told me that she saw Alice sniffing the discarded dog food bag earlier that day. So I picked it up and….LIGHT AS A FEATHER. Mystery Solved! And GROSS.

August 6

1:31 p.m.

Bumped into a friend I haven’t seen in a while at the YMCA. I told her she looked great and asked when her baby was due. She told me I look great and said she could tell I had been working out a lot this summer. I then explained that I haven’t been working out much at all this summer, it’s just that when you are 8 months pregnant, EVERYONE looks thin. #truth

3:54 p.m.

GOOD GOD but whenever George is talking it sounds like he’s holding a live grenade… #intensechild

August 8

11:24 p.m.

A few hours ago, the kids and I were walking home from “party night” at our neighbors’ house. Oliver was in front, and I could hear him saying something about a frog. But somehow my ears hearing “frog” and my eyes seeing the shadow in front of my feet just wasn’t enough to make the connection. Then a big bullfrog hopped across my feet. Then I jumped up and down, screaming, “OHMYGODOHMYGODJESUSCHRISTOHMYGOD!” Then my kids laughed at me, and it actually was pretty funny and I thought sometimes life isn’t so hard. Sometimes.

August 10

8:59 a.m.

“Don’t forget to flush. Don’t forget to wash your hands. Don’t forget to put your underwear back on BEFORE you leave the bathroom.”

I’m thinking of having a plaque made… #boys

4:42 p.m.

Okay, let’s talk about Outlander. Just watched the premiere while folding laundry today. I decided to NOT compare the book and the mini-series too much because it’s impossible to recreate anything with that much detail. But I have to say, I thought it was REALLY good. Loved the actress who played Claire (and LOVED her wardrobe). In fact – I thought the casting worked really well if you didn’t get too caught up in how they looked…Jamie was just a little too pretty, Jack Randall wasn’t nearly pretty enough and WTF DOUGAL!?! Not nearly hot enough (but maybe that improves as the show goes on and he channels some Sean Connery older guy hotness? We’ll see…) Didn’t bother me at all that Jamie doesn’t show up until the last 20 minutes. The background of “present day” was necessary and well done. Who else laughed out lout at the Scots’ reaction when Claire asked for alcohol to dress a wound? Definitely a fun watch. Can’t wait for the next one!

August 11

2:16 p.m.

This may be my favorite picture of the summer. And whenever they are screaming at each other or crying about the injustice of him getting that or her having more, I will pull this up on my phone and stroke the screen saying, “pretty…so pretty…”

4:38 p.m.

Is it just me, or does anyone else sometimes move their ships while playing Battleship so the kid can get more hits and the game will end faster?

7:03 p.m.

Playing Clue with Oliver is entertaining but not exactly fast paced. He’s far more interested in making the game pieces talk to each other than guessing “whodunit.”

August 13

8:12 a.m.

This morning – not for the first time – I noticed that my vitamin D pills come in a bottle that looks exactly like the Melatonin bottle. The actual tablets are also identical. This could end very badly for me one day…

9:21 a.m.

Eleanor has officially perfected her five syllable “Sto-o-o-o-op.” Flawless. I’m so proud.

11:26 a.m.

We’ve only been at the farm for ten minutes and I’ve already cleaned up an epic sunblock explosion in my backpack and retrieved George’s shoe from a gazebo roof. Auspicious beginnings…

Today I have five kids at a farm with miniature golf. After 20 minutes of MY TURN! And YOU CHEATED! I think it’s safe to say that I have never in my life been so excited to feed goats.

August 16

1:15 p.m.

Doing something to the demolition derby track. I have no idea – but George sure is excited. The things I do for my children… #boys

3:25 p.m.

Juuuuust cleared that height requirement.

August 17

9:32 a.m.

Just ate my weight in cheese grits. So I’m now ready for anything…that involves sleeping for 10 hours…

6:00 p.m.

George: Mom – can Ben and I have a play date?

Me: Weren’t you JUST telling me that he was being mean to you and telling you to go away when you were trying to talk to him and he WASN’T doing it in the kidding around voice?

George: Yeah. But then I did the right thing and apologized for being overly dramatic.

I doubt he will continue to “do the right thing” EVERY time he’s being overly dramatic… But this is a huge step forward for my INTENSE little boy.

August 18

8:59 p.m.

Me: Ready for bed?

George: [YAWN] No.

Eleanor: We’re never gonna “be ready for bed.”

Yes. I noticed.

10:07 p.m.

Earlier today, while trying to get the kids to stop running around the post office, I pointed out the track for a partition wall and asked them what they thought it was for….

George: I KNOW. They pull that out when there’s a tornado. Then everyone can stand behind it and not get caught in the twister.

Me: That’s an interesting idea…

Eleanor: Or maybe it’s for when they’re closed.

Me: Or that.

#MarsVenus

August 21

1:47 p.m.

On the way to the pool, George kept talking about all of the “swimming stuff” he was going to teach his younger friend. It was clear that the friend wasn’t liking this line of conversation so I intervened – suggesting that maybe his friend wasn’t interested in “learning stuff” today. George was having none of that…

George: [practically screaming with excitement] But I’m going to teach him how to jump off the diving board and swim to the side!

Friend: [mumbling] I want to go on the slide…

Me: [to a STILL talking, George] GEORGE! Maybe he doesn’t want a teacher. MAYBE he just wants a friend.

George: I could be a friendly teacher?

August 22

12:38 p.m.

One day late for #TBT. I think George was four… Decided to try out Oliver’s new bike.

August 22

5:05 p.m.

It was only a matter of time…

August 23

5:52 p.m.

Earlier today, our favorite babysitter (who is visiting for the weekend) was telling me a story about how her iphone was stolen. It began: “Well, it was my friend’s graduation party, and she was crying in her room – so you know, I had to take care of her…”

My first reaction was that it’s been a long time since I was at a party where the host was locked in her bedroom crying or where any of the guests had valuables stolen… Could not relate at all anymore.

My second (delayed) reaction, was that I could probably tell the exact same story, but it would begin: “Well, it was my daughter’s birthday party, and she was crying in her room – so you know, I had to take care of her…” And the iphone wouldn’t be stolen – it would be broken by children fighting over who had the next turn playing games on it. While none of this actually happened to me…it totally could.

Oliver was calling me from the other room. He needed HELP because he couldn’t find the TV channel he had been watching. The Home Shopping Network was on and I made him wait another five minutes before I found Sam & Cat because TRISH MCEVOY was on HSN. TRISH MCEVOY! Facial lines were being blurred with magic powder. There was SHIMMER. It was mesmerizing. I miss department store makeup…

August 28

3:13 p.m.

Walking past a garden on a street with no sidewalk…

Me: Hey guys – be careful not to step on the flowers.

George: Because they’re poisonous?

Me: No! Because they’re beautiful.

#boys

8:26 p.m.

It was open house (meet the teachers) at the kids’ Elementary school today and I’m really happy with placements. This will be the first year that all three have new teachers (George and Eleanor were in K-1 so they had the same teacher/classroom for the past two years). Both of their second grade teachers are great. I could just barely pry Eleanor out of her new classroom. George got Oliver’s teacher from last year (the strict one – as it should be); and when we left the classroom he said, “Mom, THIS year, I’m not going to be bad.” Fingers crossed for fewer trips to the principal’s office… The only downer was how SAD Oliver was that he had to leave his second grade teacher (when I told George he would have Mrs. T, Oliver said, “OH – George will be in MY class?!“) There were tears. He tried to barter with his new teacher for a “trade” which seemed to involve him doing a week in the new classroom and then switching back to his old one. I have no doubt that he’ll be FINE after a day or two. But that one just breaks my heart with his loyalty and desire to be “little” forever.

August 31

10:30 a.m.

Just BARELY managed to put back a K.C. and the Sunshine Band’s Greatest Hits CD after initially dropping it into my basket at Target. This perfectly exemplifies the dangerous level of my impulse shopper mentality…and my taste is music…

September 2

10:20 a.m.

The amount of time I am allotted for first day of school picture taking is well represented by the “best” shots from this morning. Oliver was practically jumping out of his skin with anxiety over his new classroom, so I’m surprised he isn’t a blur between his brother and sister…

September 3

11:23 a.m.

Nothing makes you feel more attractive than an annual visit to the dermatologist. Unless of course, “photo damage” and “acne scarring” don’t do it for you…

7:49 p.m.

“I’m not good at explaining sciencey things.”

And other embarrassing answers I give my children when I’m tired…

September 4

8:49 a.m.

Eleanor: Hey Jonas! I got George!

George: No you didn’t! That was my thumb! Thumbs don’t count!

Me: Yes they do! Thumbs DO count.

Not that I have any idea what they’re talking about… But George is in second grade now, and it’s long since time he learned that thumbs totally count.

7:45 p.m.

Eleanor just went outside with Chris to walk the dog…

Eleanor: [running in the door] GEORGE! You HAVE to see this!

Me: What is it?

Eleanor: A SNAKE SKIN!

George: On our steps?!

Me: [horrified expression]

Eleanor: No.

Me: [relieved expression]

Chris: Well, almost on the steps.

Me: [Thinking, “time to move.”]

Eleanor: I touched it!

Me: [THISCLOSE to passing out.]

I miss the city.

September 5

7:11 p.m.

“His lesbian friend totally wrote this for him.”

-Diane Cooper Gould’s cynical take on a Hey Cupid profile our single friend found promising… #HoorayforFridayNight

September 7

5:36 p.m.

I’m not much of an activist (unless having opinions and really caring counts…okay, so I’m not much of an activist). But I WILL say this. For men who feel like it’s only natural that they would want to see stolen pictures of female celebrities (or any women, really) in the nude simply because they are sexually attracted to women and would OBVIOUSLY want to get a peek…consider this: That may be someone else’s wife or girlfriend. What if it was your wife or girlfriend? That may be someone else’s MOTHER. What if it was your mother? That IS someone else’s daughter. Do I need to ask the obvious question?

September 11

9:50 p.m.

Arnebya, you had no idea that by not coming tonight, you’d be missing out on drinks at a Bayou Sports bar called Chasin’ Tails (get it?!) where they have both “red AND white” wine. My glass of “red” arrived in a brandy snifter.

September 12

8:11 a.m.

Me: Oliver, do you need underwear?

Oliver: No thanks.

Me: Let me rephrase that. Are you WEARING underwear?

Oliver: Uh….

That’s what I thought.

4:52 p.m.

Mulch is like the ground beef of wood. WHO KNOWS what’s in there. Also – my children are burying themselves in mulch.

September 15

9:06 a.m.

Those mornings I have to ask, “exactly WHO are the people in MY neighborhood?” ‪#‎SweetRide‬

Chris and I are out to dinner for our anniversary, and it was only when we were walking into the restaurant that I realized I forgot to put on my earrings. My hair is pulled back of course. We may as well just go home now. Night ruined.

September 17

6:56 p.m.

Eleanor: I have Ms. Gutierrez for Music – who do you have?

George: Mr. Robinson

Me: You have Mr. Robinson again?

Eleanor: Who do you like better – Mr. Robinson or Ms. Gutierrez?

George: Mr. Robinson!

Me: Why do you like Mr. Robinson better?

George: Because Ms. Gutierrez only gives two warnings and Mr. Robinson gives four.

Obviously.

September 18

10:01 a.m.

#TBT 2010

7:37 p.m.

Eleanor is reading a book about horses…

Eleanor: It says, “Genghis Khan conquered Asia and eastern Europe with an army of a quarter of a million horsemen.” There used to be HORSEMEN?

#‎TBT‬ October 2008 with my first true blogging BFF. Yesterday was my turn to write a review for ‪Rare Bird‬. This would be the blog that is covered with dust due to perpetual html woes… So you won’t find any pictures there (damn broken blog) but I made up for it with an alarming number of words.

4:44 p.m.

As I told my almost eight year old daughter that not only did I read her new library book when I was a kid, but that we also have OUR OWN copy of Where The Sidewalk Ends right here at home…it occurred to me that she is doing an excellent job of raising herself.

7:34

MAGIC

Sandra’s seen a leprechaun,Eddie touched a troll,
Laurie danced with witches once,
Charlie found some goblin’s gold.
Donald heard a mermaid sing,
Susy spied an elf,
But all the magic I have known
I’ve had to make myself.

-Shel Silverstein

September 27

10:08 a.m.

And then I realized that all of those reminders from school that the 29th is a student holiday means that my children will ALL BE HOME, ALL DAY on Monday. I’m not mentally prepared for this…

3:31 p.m.

George: Mom! No one ever listens to me! And I’m mostly right.

Preaching to the choir, George…

3:49 p.m.

George: Mom? Should I get State Farm or Nationwide on your side?

Me: What?

George: When I grow up. What do you think? State Farm or Nationwide?

I think someone’s been watching too much TV…

I’ll post October this week and then we’ll be back to monthly posts. Then maybe I’ll start writing actual blog posts again…

Part two in catching up on this…Our April and May on Facebook… (What is They Coulda’ Been Great? All answers are HERE.)

April 1

8:30 a.m.

A minute ago, I heard a loud banging noise from the living room and called out, “what’s going on in there!?” Oliver answered, “we’re just playing chair banging.” Whew! And I thought they might be doing something destructive…

April 2

6:44 p.m.

I told George he could NOT put those rocks on my nice furniture. But apparently, these are “Truth Rocks” and “very special.” Also – the fourth one from the right is “Dragon Truth.” The “collections” are never ending…

April 6

8:27 p.m.

Lately, George has been asking me to sing him a song when I tuck them in. But tonight, he said he didn’t want to hear one of their old favorites like Chicken Soup with Rice or Under a Shady Tree. Instead, this evening’s lullaby request was Roar by Katy Perry.

Nailed it.

April 7

10:11 a.m.

We had our full cast read through for Listen to Your Mother DC on Saturday night and I have to say, if you haven’t purchased your ticket yet – buy it NOW! Such an amazing group of story tellers…Can’t wait!

April 8

12:18 p.m.

A few years ago, my friend Nancy ruined my life. She was complaining about the flab on her upper arms – and my misinterpretation of “flab” meaning “fat” inspired her to explain (in great detail) how even people with thin arms develop loose skin in that area as they age. And now I can’t un-know that. I also can’t wave hello without cringing. THEN yesterday, Nancy informed me that this affliction has a name: Bingo Wings. BINGO WINGS. It’s like one indignity after another…

7:51 p.m.

Just finished this beautiful memoir by a friend. What a gift – to be able to immerse yourself in the history of someone you love. Everyone should write a memoir – like right now! I can’t wait to read yours…

April 9

10:16 p.m.

Results say I’m “Pretty Darn White.” Fair enough. Now I’m going to take this quiz for Chris. Incidentally, he thinks he’s a Samantha, but he’s SUCH a Miranda…

April 10

5:04 p.m.

Fact: there is no such thing as “simple” origami. Proof: the brain bleed I just developed…

5:46 p.m.

I’ve never done a #TBT before… But I’ve been thinking about this little guy from my past a lot today. Possibly because he woke up at !TWO AM! last night and never went back to sleep.

7:38 p.m.

Oh wait! I just saw that it’s “Sibling Day” and everyone is posting sweet pictures of their brothers and sisters. So obviously…

April 13

11:58 a.m.

New bike! Just a leeetle too big. Also Daddy bought her one with ONLY hand brakes. So that’s been interesting…

April 16

6:18 p.m.

Chris: Oliver – don’t be doing that when company comes over.

Me: Does he have underwear on his head again?

Just your average Wednesday night…

April 17

2:36 p.m.

What is that small blue fossil at the Natural History Museum? Dinosaur paci. Obviously.

3:06 p.m.

While they are really enjoying the soon to be under construction dinosaur exhibit – the items they got most excited about in the displays were a blue pacifier, a scattering of Cheetos and a toddler sock. #TheWonderYears

April 19

9:51 a.m.

“I just have to make one little rainbow and then I’ll be right there.”

In OR out of context, I love my little girl…

April 22

6:47 p.m.

George: Mom! Guess what I did for the environment today?

Me: What?

George: I threw my trash in the trash can at school!

Wow – George is quite the activist this Earth Day. Now if only I could get him to extend this enthusiasm to our trash can at home….

7:16 p.m.

In honor of Earth Day, Alice got into someone’s leftover Easter candy and puked on my newly made bed so I could do a couple of extra loads of laundry this week. Yay pets!

And no – I have NO idea where she got it since I have been vigilant about keeping baskets “up high” and behind closed doors. I can only suspect that she’s just pretending to be a dumb dog without opposable thumbs. Time to install the nanny cams….

Chris, upon hearing a neighbor’s name. Only my husband (at age 41) walks around the neighborhood calling people “Dude.”

1:24 p.m.

If a successful birthday involves drinking mimosas and inhaling half a tray of baked French toast, then WINNING.

April 28

2:41 p.m.

“There’s no winner in going to the car. There’s just getting in the car.”

I’m such a buzz kill.

5:57 p.m

Me: [to Chris] You snooze you lose.

George: Yeah Dad – you snooze too much, so that’s what you get.

So I guess they’ve noticed his multiple weekend naps…

7:00 p.m.

I’ve been so busy today, I haven’t had a chance to thank everyone for the birthday wishes. I felt beyond fêted. It was a lovely, relaxing day and Chris invited some neighbors over for a surprise birthday brunch. He told me about it the day before since I don’t like surprises and I woke up and tidied the house since he doesn’t clean. It was all very seamless and you have every right to CRY over the AMAZING french toast bake you missed. But I have to give the biggest shout out to our neighbor Mary Catherine Trocchia (next to Eleanor) who gave me the best laugh I’ve had since her father got her that haircut. Yes – that’s a bathing suit – she’s awesome. Everyone needs a Mary Catherine next door.

7:05 p.m.

“I didn’t mean to be so beautiful – it’s just the way I turned out to be.”

GODPLEASE let Eleanor always be so matter of fact about her loveliness (inside and out). Also – Don’t hate her because she’s beautiful. Pantene was on sale.

This morning’s angst has been brought to you by the good people at I Have Nothing to Wear – making women crazy since the invention of textiles.

May 2

9:59 p.m.

Diane Cooper Gould gave me this good luck card for the Listen to Your Mother DC show on Sunday. Reminds her of us? Of course she is the one with the rhinestone glasses and kicky beret.

May 3

8:58 a.m.

Me: Eleanor? What are you doing?

Eleanor: Posing.

Of course. Happy Saturday!

May 4

6:54 a.m.

Today is THE DAY! What? No – not the day my Listen to Your Mother DC reign of terror ends. Well – that too – but more importantly TODAY is THE BIG SHOW. Can’t wait to see all of my local friends there. If you haven’t bought your ticket yet – we still have some seats available so you can get them onsite.

9:48 a.m.

So it probably wasn’t a good idea to open that bag of chocolate I bought for the Listen to Your Mother DC dressing room… Of course the kids at half of it! And by “the kids” I mean me. Epilogue – I just bought another bag at the store. Officially signing off of social media now. Time to figure out where I can get change for $20 bills on a Sunday… ‪#‎poorplanning‬

May 5

6:04 p.m.

OMG – Sponge Bob is on and Mrs. Puff slammed a door in his face when he said he’d be in her drivers ed class for another year, and then he called out, “Okay – See you next Tuesday!” That was intentional, right? Also – I know I’ve seen that one several times before and never noticed that he actually said “SEE YOU NEXT TUESDAY!”

May 7

9:27 p.m.

Coming home to find your front doorknob coated in toothpaste is totally normal. At my house.

May 8

9:29 a.m.

Got a lot of compliments at the bus stop this morning on my new t-shirt (a gift from 2014 Listen to Your Mother DC cast member, Jessica Rapisarda). Then Eleanor asked, “haven’t you been wearing that shirt since yesterday?” And the answer is “OF COURSE – because I’m the…”

7:40 p.m.

#‎TBT‬ George wanted me to post a picture of my newborn twins. When I said, “how about this one,” he said, “yeah – you look really young there.” Just goes to show what seven years with George will do to someone…

May 11

If there was ever a cure for the baby fever… That was just a few days before my water broke at the hair salon and the twins arrived (luckily NOT at the hair salon). Happy Mother’s Day! I’m done.

May 12

10:27 a.m.

That Monday when three leftover cupcakes are sitting on your kitchen counter? Is the Monday you decide that “the diet starts Tuesday.”

May 13

3:56 p.m.

God save me from my facial expressions… As long as I’m not talking or gesturing, I am VERY good about smiling blandly when cameras are present (no chance of looking deranged in candids). But if I have to open my mouth for any reason – the crazy eyebrows and rictus grins are OUTOFCONTROL. And I don’t even consider myself to be an animated person…

May 14

10:04 a.m.

I just finished this incredible book and have thought of little else since I turned the last page. I read it because my friend wrote it. But even if I had never met Anna, I like to think that I’d still find my way to this story of grief and hope and faith and love and just flat out survival. While I’m not particularly religious, I find stories of faith and grace incredibly inspiring. We all need both in our daily lives and interactions with each other. Without them, we’d fall apart. Spoiler alert! This author did NOT fall apart – but she came pretty damn close. There really is something in this book for everyone… Whether they are grieving, trying to support others who have experienced loss, having a crisis of faith, love great writing and personal stories… This is a beautifully crafted memoir that is so raw and honest. It doesn’t preach or pontificate. It just tells one mother’s story – but you will absolutely carry that story with you as a touchstone for your own questions and moments of doubt. Also – in case it isn’t clear….I HIGHLY recommend this book! Pre-order now for the September 9 release!

7:51 p.m.

My husband, Chris Hood (conscientious Facebook Objector, so no tagging) has been making fun of me for YEARS about how my family “always talks about musicals” (which is ridiculous – we may make references but we certainly don’t have full blown discussions about them). WELL. Just now, the self-proclaimed musicals hater made a little musicals-related joke. We were talking about the rainy weather and then about his RULLYBAD day and he said, “it’s okay. The sun will come out tomorrow…” AND NOW I will throw THAT in his face when he berates me for singing something like, “he’s in sixth grade, going on seventh grade…” [Which actually happened at a Coveny family dinner when we were first dating. QUITE proud of that one, thank you…]

May 15

7:39 p.m.

George: Hey mom – you know there is a YouTube video about how to tie a tie and it’s not inappropriate.

Me: Tie a tie?

George: Yeah – there are two ways to tie a tie.

Me: You mean like a bow tie?

George: No – there are TWO different ways to tie a tie.

Me: You mean like the ties Daddy wears to work?

George: …okay – so there are THREE different ways to tie a tie.

As usual – I have no idea what he’s talking about. But it’s endlessly entertaining.

May 18

9:29 a.m.

A conversation only two people who grew up in the ’80s could have…

Chris: Guess what I got sucked into last night?

Me: What?

Chris: Poltergeist.

Me: WHY would you watch that at night? How bad were your dreams?

Chris: I don’t know…I saw it and thought, “I haven’t seen this in years!” Then halfway through I realized it probably wasn’t a good idea, but couldn’t stop.

Me: The clown doll?!

Chris: [holds up hand in a “don’t even go there” gesture]

We’re all scarred for life.

May 20

8:14 p.m.

Still laughing about this. While “great” may technically be the most overused adjective…I think “awesome” is hot on its heels. At least in the context of social media. Either way, I’ve decided to drop both and overuse “solid” (when in person – with a fist bump for effect).

May 24

1:26 p.m.

OMG it’s already 1 p.m.?? I’m going to be late for my acting class. Did you know that I’m in an acting class? It’s called “Acting A (K-2)” and held every Monday after early dismissal at the kids’ elementary school. I thought it would be a GREAT idea since I could sign all three of them up for the same group (the twins are in 1st and Oliver is in 2nd grade) and I would have an extra hour to myself on Mondays.

Eleanor LOVED it. George told me he wished I put him in “Wiz Kids” and Oliver decided to be a conscientious objector. I could have pulled Oliver out – but then George would want out too. And quite honestly, I don’t want them to think that (respectively) whining or spending the class time sitting in the corner dismantling new sneakers will make me give them their way. So Oliver has a new “shadow” in acting class: ME! I’m having flash backs of the ill fated “blast ball” experiment….

Luckily – there are only two classes left. Today (which is TWO HOURS to make up for missed classes on snow days) and the Monday after Memorial Day. I’m dreading the two hours…but it is kind of entertaining. The girls are all really into it – but the boys are a mess. George isn’t even the worst one! (which is very refreshing) At any given moment, “C” is rolling around on the floor while “S” and “J” (a brothers team!) practice their armpit/back of knee farts. Last week we didn’t even have time to talk about costumes since the class was so out of control. We got a MAJOR dressing down for that one…

But I think my favorite day was when I arrived to have Oliver inform me that his pants were ripped. I inspected his mesh shorts and could find no evidence of tears or holes. After sending him back to his place though, I noticed that he kept pulling his cotton boxer-briefs over his knees (???) and dragged him out to the hallway to figure out WTF was going on. I thought maybe the hole was in his underwear (ripped so that it was drooping down?). But when I pulled back the elastic of his shorts and saw his bare behind – it became clear that when he last used the bathroom, he pulled up his shorts but not his underwear. THAT is a new one for me. Then when we were finally settled back in class, George announced that he had to go to the bathroom. I told him to wait until the teachers were done giving us instructions. But he informed me in his best stage voice that it COULD NOT wait because he was in pain: “I have to go poop! And it’s pointy.”

If it were possible, I think Eleanor would pretend not to know them. Oh – and of course I was busy this weekend and didn’t make the boys practice their lines for today’s rehearsal. So this should be fun…

7:15 p.m.

George: Mom – I don’t like these [gourmet] jelly beans.

Me: Too fancy?

George: No.

Me: What don’t you like about them?

George: The taste.

Kind of a deal breaker.

May 25

1:00 p.m.

May 27

8:40 p.m.

In case it wasn’t clear what Listen to Your Mother “is about” – that would be “parents that have kids.” According to my seven year old, Eleanor in her first grade journal.

May 28

7:22 p.m.

Thinking I might take my kids to a Renaissance Festival in VA and saw this on the website… “For all costumed patrons: You may carry costume weapons with you. However, all weapons must be peace-tied, preferably with zip ties.” Totally investing in a mock crossbow. Or if that’s too cumbersome perhaps a mace…

May 29

5:51 p.m.

#TBT Just me and my GIANT baby Oliver (seriously – he was only 6 weeks old). We went to San Francisco and 90% of my pictures were taken in the hotel room (also – check out my old cell phone! A lot has changed in nine years…).

9:09 p.m.

One more #TBT: The most annoying picture in the history of pictures! Why annoying? Because I did this EVERY night with the twins for years, yet there is no visual documentation. Chris does it once and OF COURSE there is a photo. But it’s my own fault. In every relationship there is “the one who takes pictures.” That would be me. Too bad I didn’t embrace selfies back then…

The morning of September 9, 2011, I was in a pretty good mood considering the night I had. I just survived a basement flood without significant damage to anything of importance. In fact, I didn’t just survive, I handled the entire disaster completely on my own. Chris wouldn’t be home from work for a while, the kids were more hindrance than help, and as I watched the water rising over the blockade of towels I had constructed, it was clear that waiting for assistance wasn’t an option. I transferred a room-full of both family heirlooms and random crap to a safer – drier – location, while simultaneously shoring up the dam of towels and holding my children at bay with television and junk food. All by myself. It took hours and I felt fairly heroic about the whole experience.

I had a lot of clean up work to do and by mid morning, I realized that it had been close to 24 hours since I had checked my e-mail or done anything online. Saving my heirlooms and crap had commanded all of my attention, and I had no idea that DC area flooding had destroyed more than just boxes of photo albums and antique furniture – that people had actually died. I didn’t know that 15 minutes away from me, an entire neighborhood had mobilized in a search for a 12 year old boy carried away by a flash flood. And I could never have imagined that the 12 year old boy would be my friend’s son.

When I finally picked up my cell phone, I saw that I had missed texts from early in the morning asking me if I had heard that, “Anna’s son died last night.” Assuming this must be a mistake, I turned on the computer and checked Anna’s Facebook page to see what she last posted. From what I remembered, it was a picture of her kids doing homework by candlelight after school due to a power outage. Instead I found a list of condolences so long that I finally gave up on scrolling to figure out WHAT had happened.

After that, my story is more or less the same one that you’ll hear from anyone else. Absolute horror. Terrible sadness. Inability to process the reality of the situation.

You will hear these stories from people who have never actually met Anna because of her blog, An Inch of Gray. Before the flood, many of her posts included sweet, funny stories about her children. Readers grew to know Jack and Margaret through Anna’s eyes, and I think they – we – grieved the loss of that little boy just as much as we would the child of a life long friend.

One of the reasons I first started reading Anna’s blog is that she’s a wonderful writer. She has a way of offering her own stories and thoughts without alienating those who are different. I could relate to her even though my children were toddlers and hers were in elementary school – even though I don’t identify with a specific religion and she often writes about her faith in God. While many of our life experiences have been different, she shares her own in such a welcoming way, without judgement of others.

I learned a lot about grief from my friend that year. Both online and off. She used her blog as a place to be brutally honest about Jack’s death and her life without him. As a writer, she was able to think things through on the page…and as a blogger she found community in sharing her story with others. While I was fortunate in proximity, and could talk to my friend in person, I found her blog posts to be just as disarming. The same open spirit was there, and comment after comment thanked her for everything from making people feel less alone in their own grief to just offering some enlightenment about what a grieving friend may be experiencing.

A year later when Anna told me that she had been approached to write a memoir, I could only think, “of course.” There was no question that if anyone could tell a personal story that would resonate with others, it would be Anna.

Two years after that, I was gifted with an advance copy of Rare Bird – and when I turned the last page, my immediate reaction was that I wanted EVERYONE to read it.

This woman wrote a book in which one of the main characters is God with a capital G, but I think that even the most ardent of atheists would find wisdom there. It’s a book about faith and we all have faith in something, whether it’s God or love or science. None of these are exempt from questions or cynicism, yet we have to believe – have faith – to keep going each day.

As a book about early grief, Rare Bird doesn’t preach or pontificate. It simply tells one mother’s story about a universal experience. Everyone eventually grapples with loss. No two stories are the same, but at their core, all hold hurt, anger and disappointment. They also include love, learning and hope. And life. In telling her own story without any claim to have all the answers or to even know what comes next, Anna has extended an invitation to acknowledge this and bear witness to a crucial facet of the human condition.

I won’t go too deeply into the details of what you will find in this book or why I think it’s so incredibly unique as a memoir (my own verbose style would require a thesis for that). There are so many wonderful reviews that have accomplished this far better than I ever could – all of which can be found as links on the Facebook Page for An Inch of Gray. Though as far as details and quotes go, I really loved this one: Rare Bird, Indeed.

The only thing that I’d like to add to the rest is that “this is NOT a scary book.” Anna has mentioned in interviews that she doesn’t want anyone to fear the actual subject matter of her story. There are no awful surprises or anything written for shock value. It can be hard to read at times, but the overall message is one of hope.

When I heard this concern, I was immediately reminded of a childhood favorite: There’s a Monster at the End of This Book. Grover from Sesame Street finds out that when you get to the last page of the book, a monster will be waiting. He implores the reader to stop turning pages, employing rope and brick walls – none of which work. And of course, there is a monster at the end of the book. But it’s just him. I had a similar experience in reading Rare Bird. It’s hard to read something sad. It’s scary to think about losing a child. But not reading a story doesn’t make those fears and feelings go away. There definitely is something at the end of Anna’s book. But it’s just you.

Seeing another mother survive my own worst nightmare puts flooding basements into perspective. I often place a bit too much sentimental value on things – but it’s stories like this one that help me remember what is truly important in life. “Anything of importance” is a subjective concept, but I think everyone will agree that people matter most. The love we have for our family and friends is an incredible gift – but it comes with inevitable risk. One of my favorite quotes from Rare Bird is, “grieving is the price we pay for loving him so very much.” They would never trade their 12 years with Jack for a life without grief.

I will continue to be thingsy and want my kids to just go to bed already so I can catch up on Homeland… I will think I’m a super hero for clearing out a basement during a flood… And from time to time, I will be jealous and feel sorry for myself. But I know what is truly important. I will cherish the time I have with the people I love. I will be grateful for all of the love, wisdom and grace that comes my way. And I will tell everyone I know that they should read Rare Bird because it isn’t a scary book at all.

And I’ve been thinking a lot about it over the past week. About all funerals, really.

What is it that they say about funerals? That they’re for the living? It makes sense. Only the living would really need a funeral. Because it offers a means of saying goodbye.

This public acknowledgement of – this bearing witness to – an ending is sometimes the only thing that allows us to move on. Forward. Possibly, to even see that as an option. A funeral honors this ending/beginning, and gives us permission to grieve, hope and continue to live.

At age 40, I’ve been to many funerals. And as far as religious rituals and rites go, I wouldn’t say that I personally need them. I don’t need a ceremony to say goodbye. I don’t need to commune with black garbed strangers I’ll probably never see again. I don’t need a gathering.

But I could never say that I don’t need people.

Which is an ironic statement coming from me since I love having time to myself. I actually like being alone. I could spend an entire week without seeing another person and never feel lonely. But this is exactly why I need people. Because for me, being alone is easy. And there is nothing to be learned from an easy life.

I need to feel the press of humanity around me. To bump into their sharp edges and feel a little uncomfortable. I need to be jostled and forced to participate. To stay awake. And alive.

Funerals are taxing for an introvert. All of those people…

And ultimately – I think that’s all a funeral is. Just people bumping into each other. Taking what they need and giving what they can. From family and friends supporting each other to strangers sharing a moment of companionship. It’s just a bunch of people standing around, feeling.

We are surrounded by people every day. On the bus…standing in line at the grocery store…sitting in a movie theater. So many experiences we remember are actually moments in time shared with strangers. But how often do we acknowledge that? That indirect togetherness?

Ceremony aside, a funeral is an ideal occasion to recognize how connected we all are. Saying goodbye is a terrible thing to have in common – but it makes us actually look at each other.

The blond woman who puts her head on the shoulder of the man next to her. So tender. They must be close. I wonder if they are part of the family…maybe work friends.

The two women walking down the aisle. Mother and daughter? The older one looks very sad. The younger one holds her elbow. The small smiles they give me as they pass don’t reach their eyes.

A toddler in the front row wails and is quickly whisked to the back of the church. Her boots are spangled with sequins. A granddaughter?

As far as people watching goes, it’s not all that different from an afternoon at Whole Foods. Everyone has a story. Most of us are here alone. Alone in a crowd that’s only different in its singular purpose of saying goodbye.

But the goodbyes that truly bring us all together come from the people in the front row. Especially those who stand up to tell stories about the loved one who died. They are not just sharing anecdotes that we may or may not already know – they’re handing us pieces of themselves.

What a rare and extraordinary experience. To be alone yet together in a crowd of friends and strangers, seeing a unique individual through the eyes the people who love them.

The first time I ever witnessed something like this was in high school. A new classmate (who would later in life become a dear friend) stood in front of hundreds of people to tell us about her twelve year old brother. She did this by reading a letter his friends wrote about him.

In college, I listened to my mother’s sister and cousin tell stories about their “Nana” who never married or had children, but instead poured all of her love into four little nieces. She let them try on her jewelry and made an event of watching the Miss America pageant.

When a good friend’s father died, I listened to her sister tell a hilarious story about his dedication to snapping great photos at the many weddings he attended. His scrappy hustle and willingness to elbow any professional photographer out of the way inspired his six children to call him, “Matty Kane, cub reporter.”

A few years later, I listened to that same sister’s husband talk about her valiant battle with breast cancer. When she received this diagnosis, her immediate response was, “thank god it’s not one of my babies.”

And in the fall of 2011, I sat in complete awe as one of my closest friends described the too short but incredibly full life of her twelve year old son. He had a sweet nature and a talent for making people feel special.

I think that two funerals for twelve year old boys has been entirely enough for me. I can only hope that there will never be a third.

But the funeral last week was not for a boy. It was for a man with thirteen grandchildren. A man who lived both a long and full life. One full of stories.

Some of these stories were told by his children who each took a turn to talk about the father they knew. It was especially moving for me to witness this since I practically lived in their house when I was a little girl.

Madeline was like the sister I never had, which made her siblings my extended network of big sisters and younger brothers. So the stories they told about what a character their father was…his irreverence…his tendency to bring home random “new friends” as if they were long lost family members…his constant supply of Lucky Strikes…they all brought back so many memories of that big family with their larger than life patriarch. But I was especially touched by their more serious, poignant insights.

Marjorie spoke first, explaining that she and her sister Gigi were tiny girls when their father came into their life. He fell in love with their mother and without hesitation, claimed them as his own. It takes quite a man to do something like that.

Oldest sister was followed by youngest brother, Reilly. Who is inexplicably no longer a ten year old boy. When did he become this man with SIX children of his own? But man he is, and so much like his father. He talked about the man who taught him how to be a man, starting with the value of a strong handshake. A lesson he’s passed down to his own sons.

My Madeline (I always think of her as “My Madeline”) went next. She was a Daddy’s Girl and never one to wear her heart anywhere BUT on her sleeve for the world to see (dry eyes beware). She shared her earliest memory of being at the beach, where her father would carry her out into the waves. She thought it was scary…and also exciting. But she always felt safe.

Gigi was the last to speak, and she said that she found herself at a loss for words. She has endured what could only be described as a mother’s nightmare over the past year. And the presence of supportive parents has contributed largely to her survival. She didn’t share memories, as no story or quote was required to express the depth of her love and grief. Instead she told us how much this support meant to her – just the simple act of “spending time with him.” Knowing that he was there.

One brother was not able to talk about the father he knew, but his presence filled the room. John died young, just barely a man himself. His Down Syndrome was never perceived as a disability in their house, but the health complications that so often accompany the condition were a constant worry. The loss of this much loved son and brother was a terrible blow to the family. And while this wasn’t John’s funeral, it did feel like a continuation of grief and gratitude for the time they all had together.

While I do not have a son with Down Syndrome, I do have one with special needs. And I think that I owe much to my friend and her family for my perception of him as being just perfect the way he is. This isn’t an easy thing to do. No one finds out they’re pregnant and wishes for a child with special needs. No one wants their son to struggle with the things that come so easily to others. But I grew up watching a family find the exceptional in a boy with special needs because of his differences. And I am so incredibly grateful for that.

I didn’t go to John’s funeral. I was in college, in another state and young enough to believe that my presence wouldn’t have been important. But 20 years later, I know this is far from true. There are no extraneous people when it comes to saying goodbye.

Whether we are there alone or in the front row, we are all part of something bigger than a rite or ritual. A funeral isn’t just a miscellaneous assortment of people in pews. It’s a shared moment of grief in loss, gratitude for life and the acknowledgement that that everyone – even an introvert like me – needs people.

Alone in a crowd or together around a family table, we are just people bumping into each other’s sharp edges, reminding each other to participate in life – to actually look at each other. We take what we need and give what we can. And we tell stories to help us remember.

And as long as there are stories, then we never really have to say goodbye.

I know… A “They Coulda’ Been Great” post for ALL of 2012. ALLOFIT. Oh – there’s not that much of it – I was a sporadic poster that year.

I’ve had so much fun looking back at the silliness evidenced in my 2013 Facebook status updates, that I decided to stroll down memory lane in 2012 (totally worth it if you post funny stories about your kids). Anyway – I dumped it all in a Word doc and decided to post the whole damn thing here.

Yes – I posted it retroactively for December 31, 2012… But I have a thing for chronological order. If this is the first time you are seeing anything about this, my first “They Coulda’ Been Great” post was for January 2013. It explains everything. The impact of social media on blogging, writing, community… Whatever – I write some funny stuff on Facebook and then I post it all on my blog. It’s my new thing. Hope you enjoy it.

Here is 2012 (yes – all of it – allofit, even)!

February 3

7:05 p.m.

Look what just arrived! Thank you to Eleanor who took the picture and suggested a little lip gloss (though she neglected to mention a much needed push up bra…) Stephanie Dulli and I are now READY for those Listen to Your Mother DC auditions. Should we wear our new shirts? Oh – I think so…

February 4

12:00 p.m.

Eleanor just held something out for me to see, saying, “George thinks this is a tooth.” And…George is right. Half right…as it is HALF a tooth. Must be one of Oliver’s baby teeth that they all played with and LOST before it could be placed under a pillow for the Tooth Fairy. Eleanor’s reaction to this revelation: Gingerly handed it to me, and wrinkling her nose in an excellent “Mom” impersonation said, “well…I don’t think we need it anymore.”

February 16

4:55 p.m.

So….holiday binge eating lasts roughly from Thanksgiving through Valentine’s Day, right? Or is it St. Patrick’s Day? I can never remember…

March 19

1:50 p.m.

Great pictures from the St. Patrick’s Day celebration at the Reston Town Center! But this one reminds me of what a disaster Eleanor was last night… She was beside herself about her face paint washing off in the tub. Cried (SOBBED) for an hour straight. By the end, I was ready to take a permanent marker to her face and call it a day!

April 9

5:00 p.m.

Out of all of my annoyed demands that they just smile for the camera, already!…of course, this is the kind of picture I like best.

April 17

4:40 p.m.

First of all! That is NOT our trash can! Second of all – we NEVER play in trash cans! Life in the suburbs…

April 18

2:15 p.m.

I just spent the last hour mesmerized by the Saturday Night Fever Glee. I think I like Disco a little too much…

April 19

7:40 p.m.

I was totally congratulating myself on FINALLY having kids old enough that I don’t have to supervise them when they wake up at the crack of dawn. Then today, I noticed that Oliver has been getting into the ice cream… So much for sleeping in.

April 21

10:05 a.m.

I’m getting really excited for my 40th birthday next week since it means I will be biologically TOO OLD for teenager-like acne breakouts. Right? Right?!?!

6:50 p.m.

Eleanor lost her first tooth! This is always the most awkward shot…trying to see a gap in the BOTTOM teeth…

April 22

8:30 a.m.

This is Eleanor’s new Barbie. She’s a “horse doctor.” Like a female James Herriott…in satin hot pants.

April 24

10:35 a.m.

Filed under things that happen when 5-year-olds in hospital gowns have to wait over 30 minutes for their doctor.

11:15 a.m.

And in a shocking turn of events…We discovered that somewhere in the midst of all of the twins’ sick visits to the doctor, I forgot to schedule their 2011 well check. Mother of the year! Let’s celebrate with extra inoculations all around! I’m mortified…

April 29

4:20 p.m.

I have 3 children and the oldest just turned 7. How is it possible that today is FIRST day that I ever removed a splinter for one of them? Eleanor had one in her finger. Twenty minutes of wailing and running away from me – then a two-second removal with tweezers. With all of the screaming she did, I wonder if our neighbors thought I was removing her fingernail!

April 30

8:50 a.m.

Eleanor: Mama can I have some breakfast?

Me: Sure – what do you want?

Eleanor: I don’t know – what are the offers.

Let me check today’s circulars…

May 4

1:30 a.m.

A middle of the night thought: Is it still possible to invent a new emoticon? Or has every possible combination of symbols now been used?

Related: I hate emoticons.

Also: I now use ” :) ” regularly because I worry about people thinking I’m being serious when I’m kidding and assuming that I’m mad or just really bitchy.

Either way, I always feel like a sell out.

:)

May 5

12:45 p.m.

Know what’s awesome about my mother and mother in law? They come into my disorganized house with its layers of dust and grimy surfaces, and they don’t judge or pointedly scrub counters in front of me. The downside? No free cleaning services.

May 6

11:01 p.m.

I’m exhausted – and I can’t believe the show is over. Though I expect my friends will be thrilled to see my months of shameless self promotion come to an end… Anyway – I want to say thank you to our incandescent Director, Stephanie Dulli and our brave and beautiful Listen to Your Mother DC cast (listed below as “with” since even FB thinks my LTYM reign of terror needs to end and therefore refuses to let me tag more than a few people at a time…) Couldn’t include our first reader (and theme inspiration), Cindy Green since she has of yet to accept my friend request – humph! But seriously – I am in awe of these women and the stories they have to tell. It was an honor to share a stage with them.

11:40 p.m.

On last thing before I stagger off to bed, Stephanie’s husband Zach tweeted this picture of me at the podium during my reading. Is it me, or do I actually look like a giant Oscar award?

May 7

2:45 p.m.

Eleanor is cracking me up! A relative gave her this paper doll fashion show thing, and after spending the morning coloring them all in, she’s now stationing the dolls around the house in their “homes.” One lives on the dining room table, one on the kitchen counter, one on a living room chair…

And now apparently, ALL the dolls are abuzz with news about a fashion show taking place in HERNDON. Every time I hear her gasp, “OH! You’re going to the fashion show in Herndon too?!” I die laughing. Then one of the dolls exclaimed, “Herndon? That’s really far for me – I’ll have to drive.” So I interjected, “really? Herndon is far for her?” To this Eleanor gave me a quizzical look and said, “well yes. She lives all the way at the refrigerator.”

8:05 p.m.

Typical conversation pattern between Chris and me:

Chris: So Cathy Trocchia said she DID go to the show.

Me: Yes – she sent me a message. But I don’t know if Jamie Seifert made it.

Chris: [more “why the interrogation?” faces] I just don’t. WHY would I know that?

Me: Because you know that she didn’t come – which means either she or Cathy told you that she didn’t come or wasn’t going to be able to come. And women don’t just say “I’m not going” or “I didn’t go” – they give each other reasons. In my world, we tell each other “WHY” we do or don’t do things.

Chris: [“you are crazy” look]

The End

Editor’s note: This was a Mars/Venus anecdote about my incredulity over how Chris always reports “what” information and never “why.” Not about my friend Jamie who obviously had something come up yesterday. She is darling and always answers questions with WHY information, like a good female.

May 14

9:15 a.m.

So I just discovered a major perk to turning 40. I no longer agonize over what to call my mother in law’s friends in thank you notes. Paula or Mrs. Garlick? I’m freaking 40 years old – I think I can just go with Paula!

Now I’m looking forward to turning 50. Because THEN I will no longer feel required to write thank you notes.

May 17

8:00 p.m.

Typical almost-3:00 p.m. scene: I have to get to preschool pick up right now! But I can’t find my keys…where are they?…searching…searching…not in my purse…not in the kitchen…not on the bed…not in the bathroom…not in the refrigerator (yes – I’m checking everywhere)…where can they be?! Now I’m late! No more time to look…where is that spare key?…Excellent! Right where it should be. I’m not THAT late…just a few minutes. No one will even notice. Out the front door! Make sure it’s locked! Wait – what’s that? Oh. … The key.

Note to self: first place to look for my keys would be IN the front door.

Also? This happens frequently.

May 23

8:25 p.m.

I have been so much better about FB lately… But I’ve been offline for a few days due to THIS! Meet Alice – a 5 month old rescue puppy that Chris brought home while I was at Christy Wood’s wedding reception in NYC. Chris and Oliver picked her out and I have to admit – she’s perfect for our family. She doesn’t chew shoes – but keep an eye on your Hungry Hungry Hippos marbles….

May 25

8:20 p.m.

I think I may be the dumbest person on the planet. Just today, I realized that some of the AMAZING photographers I see on Twitter and FB, are capturing those images of a crystal clear face amidst a blur of people, flowers, toys…what have you, using INSTAGRAM! Side note: I just started using Instagram!

8:28 p.m.

Also, remember when I wrote I’m Shy Every Day? WELL – today was the twins’ preschool graduation and all of the kids got up and said what they wanted to be when they grew up (George said sky diver and Eleanor said horse rider). But little miss “I’m shy every day” herself made my day/week/year when she faced the crowd and answered “Rock Star.” I almost cried – it was just that AWESOME.

May 27

7:35 p.m.

Am I a bad pet owner if I find his annoying? I am so tired… I would happily lie down on the floor if I thought I could get away with it. Now that it’s 7:30 p.m., I’m pretty sure that I missed the Sunday nap window. Yet Chris always manages to catch both (yes – there are two). And this dog…she mocks my fatigue with her spontaneous snoozing.

June 2

5:00 p.m.

Eleanor: Mama – what should I draw?

Me: The sun.

Eleanor: And what?

Me: And….flowers growing.

Eleanor: OR! How about people sitting under mushrooms – GIANT mushrooms – because it’s so hot?

Why does she even ask me?

June 12

5:25 p.m.

Our boring, rainy day inside has just hit a new low. The twins are now taking turns whacking each other with a package of cookie dough (the old school roll kind).

July 8

10:55 a.m.

Between the kids and the puppy, I sometimes feel like my whole life smells like pee pee.

Me: Are you serious? You have touched some of the most disgusting…YOU have touched AT LEAST five dead animals. Go get that bowl!

Epilogue: the dishwasher is running and the licked ice cream bowl is still downstairs.

July 13

4:45 p.m.

Favorite moment of the week: running down to the basement to get something and finding my tiny 5-year-old, George dancing his heart out to Just Dance II (which my kids call “Dance Party”). The song: It’s Raining Men.

5:00 p.m.

Actual conversation I just had with my five year old daughter:

[sound of kids playing a loud/rambunctious game involving stuffed animals.]

Eleanor: [enters the dining room looking very pouty and put out about something] Mommy, Oliver is only doing the other animals and he won’t do my hippo.

Me: [yelling into the other room] OLIVER! Do Eleanor’s hippo. Right now!

My life is weird.

July 14

11:45 a.m.

I love listening to Oliver’s chatter these days. The combination of his communication delays, fast growing vocabulary and exposure to television makes for many moments of hilarity.

When you open a bag of ramen noodles and little noodle shards fly everywhere.

July 18

11:10 a.m.

After watching many episodes of The Dog Whisperer, we’ve concluded that we really need to meet with a dog trainer to discuss Alice’s “issues.” So of course the kids keep referring to the guy coming on Saturday as “The Dog Whisperer.” Wonder how disappointed they’ll be when Cesar Millan doesn’t show up on our doorstep…

July 21

7:30 p.m.

Am I the only one who finds the FB default to “top stories” sort annoying? Who is deciding what is a top story? Is this some kind of Netflix-like, “based on your recent selections” thing? Just show me the most recent status updates so I’m not commenting on things that happened two days ago, okay? Or at least default to most recent because I’m FB-challenged and never remember to manually select that.

Guess I should check settings or something to see if I can change this.

Listed under “things I have in common with your parents.”

July 22

4:35 p.m.

My neighbor and I had a twinsies moment today when we both walked out wearing the same Target tank top. Same style – same color – probably the same size. Ah – suburbia… I would say it was all very Stepford wife – but you know…Target. Cathy – in our next life, let’s reenact that scene in something a bit more upmarket.

July 25

11:55 a.m.

So, fun drive to the twins’ first day of camp. Since parking would be feet away from check in, I went ahead and brought the dog. Halfway there, she jumped up next to me and I said, “PEE-YEW Alice. You smell like dog food.” Then George yelled, “Gross! Alice puked!” I looked back and sure enough – two huge piles – one on the back seat next to George and one of the floor. And then – THEN – she leaned over and puked on my leg.

Seriously. HOW do people live without pets.

August 1

2:30 p.m.

I had no idea that black and white hides wrinkles so well. I’ll never go back to color!

August 9

8:45 p.m.

I see Oliver taking chalk down to the basement. And I ask “what are you doing with the chalk.” He says “I’m going to draw a picture,” as he scampers out of sight. Then I frantically yell after him, “on the chalkboard? ON THE CHALKBOARD?!”

It’s a legitimate question…

August 16

5:50 p.m.

So Alice is a total money pit… I feel like I’m at the vet with her weekly. Today’s reason: tail biting. Seriously? Here is a pic of her cone head. A dog rite of passage she’s not enjoying one little bit.

August 22

8:00 p.m.

Eleanor REALLY doesn’t like the movie Spy Kids. Her (dramatic) review: “It’s like a kid horror movie…it’s really scary…and pretty cruel.” I remember seeing previews…and that was not my take…but I guess we’re all entitled to our opinions.

August 24

5:50 p.m.

The twins had afternoon camp this week, so Oliver had me all to himself. Since this NEVER happens (he’s always getting pushed aside with all of their grabby neediness), I thought I’d do something fun with him every day. We went to the farm, the zoo…miniature golf…a WATER PARK. But here’s the problem: I’m intrinsically not very fun. And I would never choose to do any of those things without the incentive of making my son happy. It was taxing…but boy does he look happy, right?

August 31

9:30 a.m.

Woods walk feather

September 5

6:55 p.m.

George: The inside of my body is very hot, right?

Me: Yes, it’s warm inside our bodies.

George: But the outside of our bodies is very COLD!

Me: No…not cold. The outside of our bodies would be cooler than the inside though.

George: OH! so only when it’s WINDY.

Me: …

[five minutes later]

George: [holds up an arm] Mom – I’m not skinny anymore!

Me: Well…you’re still pretty slim…

George: So just a little skinny.

Me: Just a little.

George: But Eleanor isn’t as skinny.

Me: She’s just a little skinny too.

George: Mom – do you know what your boobs are for?

Me: WHAT?!

George: Do you know what your…

Me: Yes – I heard you the first time. And I’m dying to know – what do YOU think they are for?

George: For breathing!

Of course.

This is George’s idea of pleasant dinner conversation. What did you discuss this evening?

September 13

3:00 p.m.

Just remembered something I meant to tell you yesterday… I was driving home from the store with the windows down since it was GORGEOUS outside. And as I’m driving 50 MPH down a fairly busy street something fell through the window and into my lap. My first thought was that it was an acorn since the local squirrels like to throw them down at people (why not cars?) But I wasn’t near any trees. So I then assumed it must have been some kind of debris blowing back off a truck that had just passed me. Either way – it had fallen right between my legs and rolled down, almost under me. I then had to reach, well…you know where, to try to retrieve this mystery object while keeping my eyes on the road. And as I brought it up in my cupped hand to take a look, I discovered that it was a GIANT BUMBLEBEE. So I screamed, threw it out the window and indulged in a moment of silent gratitude for not getting into an accident.

So how about you? How was your day?

September 19

9:05 p.m.

My son, Oliver is so weird…

September 26

7:25 a.m.

An important reminder for my little girl who likes lunch notes and has so little confidence sometimes…

7:50 a.m.

Are ladybugs lucky? And if so, does the luck increase with the number of spots? Let me know, because a ladybug with 20 spots is sitting on a kid-made vase on my bedside table. And I could really use some luck…

October 7

2:55 p.m.

Group Effort

October 24

9:15 p.m.

It’s the World Series and my poor husband is stuck watching it with ME. My level of interest is reflected by insights such as “that guy looks like Luke Wilson.” [Justin Verlander] I’ve also spotted players who remind me of Justin Timberlake and Antonio Banderas. Epilogue: I brought a book.

November 11

6:00 p.m.

Hierarchy

November 7

10:25 a.m.

Post election morning banter at my house:

Me: George – get dressed. You have to wear pants to Kindergarten.

George: [slamming his tiny body into my legs for the 10th time in 10 seconds] I put my penis on you!

Me: Don’t put your penis on people. It’s not polite.

George: AND it’s no use.

Me: Usually.

November 13

5:20 p.m.

George: Mom – your self can control yourself, right?

Me: One would hope.

November 14

7:50 a.m.

Sometimes when I find myself battling the dog for bed space, I have to wonder how it came to this…

November 19

6:50 p.m.

Listening to Kung Fu Fighting, Car Wash, Fire, Flashlight… I have to say, that Pure Funk CD may have been my very best purchase of the ’90s

November 22

8:35 p.m.

Hand turkeys waving goodbye. See you next Thanksgiving!

November 28

2:35 p.m.

What was life like before chocolate chips…? Leaner I think – but perhaps a bit soulless…

December 1

2:00 p.m.

Started a shopping list and had to stop when I suspected that I may currently be possessed by Buddy the Elf.

December 2

11:50 p.m.

Is it just me – or do other people say “Pierce Brosnan” when they really mean “Bronson Pinchot”? Maybe it’s just me…

December 6

9:30 a.m.

Exciting morning! We were running late for the school bus – so I decided to drive the kids to school. George was ready first, so I told him to just get in the car. When the rest of us left the house several minutes later – he was nowhere to be found. Eleanor ran up to the bus stop to check and see if he was there (it’s happened before). Not there. Not in front of the house – not behind the house – not IN the house. Now I’m worried and drive the others (and the dog) up to the bus stop to look around there. Not there. Leave all in the locked car while I run back toward our house and call the school. They put me on hold to look for George and I continue to call his name, wondering if a neighbor could have thought he was left behind and taken him to school. Then a neighbor hears me and tells me that he GOT ON THE BUS (which must have been running late). Ran back to car to console crying siblings and drive them to school, where I stayed for a while to have a talk with Mr. George. Side note: this is about the 10th time I’ve spent more than 5 minutes running around my neighborhood calling frantically for one of my lost little boys. Epilogue: I am at Starbucks ordering coffee.

December 8

1:00 p.m.

George: Mom, remember a long, long time ago…we were demons.

Me: What?

George: No, I mean we were those guys from a long, long time ago and then we turned into Pilgrims.

Me: We did?

George: Yeah and then we turned into animals and then we turned into this place.

Me: What’s that?

George: Well, first we were in a tummy and then we got bigger and then we were two years old and then older and older and nine years old…

Me: So wait, first we were demons?

George: And you know what’s even badder than the devil?

Me: What?

George: DEMONS! Because they are huge.

I’m totally lost.

December 10

12:40 p.m.

Working on a database. Forgot how entertaining long lists of names can be. “Sarah Fawcett.” Subtle – but still cracks me up.

December 11

7:05 p.m.

I have now clocked enough hours in proximity of children’s shows on the TV that I can hear a character’s voice in an unknown cartoon and say, “hey that sounds like Quincy [Little Einsteins].” This is not the first time I’ve identified cartoon voice overs. If there was a game show for this I’d win big.

December 15

10:35 a.m.

It’s hard to not feel sad today… But I try to remind myself that everything is fine until it’s not. And when everything in your own life is fine, you have to go with it. Because when it’s not, you never really get fine back.

As much as my heart breaks for everyone who has ever lost a child, today I’m going to put all of my energy into making sure my own children who are so very HERE right now, know just how much they are loved. I’ll feel sad on my time – not theirs.

December 16

3:55 p.m.

Decided to take the dog out for a long walk. But only just now, one mile out did I remember letting Eleanor put makeup on me. Like an hour ago. And I should note that she’s not a light touch with the eye shadow…

December 17

6:05 p.m.

After a visit to the dentist…

Eleanor: Mom – look at my new toothbrush!

Me: Very nice. Why don’t you put it in the bathroom – we can get rid of your old one.

Eleanor: [back from the bathroom and showing me her old toothbrush] What should we do with it?

Me: Throw it out.

Eleanor: Gasp! Throw it out?? Why don’t we just sell it or something?

I don’t know…what do you guys think? Ebay or Craig’s List?

9:25 p.m.

By the way – if you have an Elf on the Shelf and hear the cynical observation: “he can’t be real – he has a TAG…like toys in the toy store.” Give your kids a conspiratorial look and say, “he’s in disguise. The tag is part of the whole ‘toy by day’ thing.” Makes your kids think they’re in on the subterfuge.

December 19

4:40 p.m.

Now THAT’S an old recipe!

7:00 p.m.

George: Mom! Overblah in French means “bye!” Always fermember it!

Not sure how much of that is misunderstanding French or how much is misunderstanding English….

7:40 p.m.

Chris was explaining Hanukah to George, who is now talking about the big battle between the Cereals and the Macabeans.

December 21

3:40 p.m.

Yesterday, I discovered that my kids were wrapping random objects from our house as presents for their grandparents. As much as I know my mother would love her roll of silver wire ribbon from Michael’s…I had to shut that down before they got into the good china.

December 27

4:40 p.m.

PSA for future parents: As you are considering the number of children you hope to have in your family, figure in the number of shoes and coats you would like to have strewn across your floor at any given time. (Note to the ladies: include your husband’s coat and shoes in your calculations.)

Today, I’ve exchanged posts with one of my favorite bloggers, Heidi Cave ofFancy Feet. You can read her favorite post of mine,I Never Thought I’d Wear Sunglassesover on her site, and below you will find my favorite post (or one of them) of hers, Summer.

As a quick intro… When I first started reading Fancy Feet, I thought Heidi was funny and her writing was beautiful. But I was a little confused about what her disability was. She referred to it every once in a while and I knew it had something to do with her feet because of her blog name…but there wasn’t a statement about it anywhere on her sidebar or in her profile at that time. Eventually, she wrote something that clarified the vague allusions for me. She explained that she had been in a horrific car crash that killed her friend and burned her own body to the point that she lost both of her lower legs. Heidi has been writing about this in a novel and she’s posting pieces of it on her Fancy Feet. While Heidi’s story of recovery is inspiring, it’s really her talent inspires me. Her talent and her choice to dream big. To make things happen. She chose the life she has. She made it happen. And she continues to dream for more. If you aren’t already reading her blog, you need to change that NOW! Here is an example of why:

Summer

I’m always excited about the first days of summer when sunsets linger and the night becomes an extension of the day. But, the heat, when it reaches its peak, is relentless and exhausting. It sinks beneath my skin and into my bones reminding me of what was.

The slap-slapping of flip-flops, toes curling into the sand, cool water over sun-drenched skin…the sounds and sighs of summer. I miss them.

When the summer unleashes its full force on us it takes my breath away with its memories. After all this time I’m still sucker-punched-in-the-gut-I-can’t-believe-I’ll-never-know-this-again, the scars too great to see too much sunlight; my legs encased in silicone, plastic and metal. The sun became my enemy, no longer something I ran toward and bathed in. Summer was my favorite season filled with hours at the lake; reading until the words blurred together, adjusting my bathing suit straps for minimal tan lines. My year began in the fall, not in January. Summer was my chance to shed the worries and mistakes of the past year, and live carefree for a few months until I got to start over.

In the wake of June 12, 1998 the summer was cruel to me, a joke. I couldn’t do what I wanted. I couldn’t wear what I desired to wear. It was unbearable to see girls my age, toes wiggling, skin exposed, hair flipping, and complaining about the heat. God, I wanted what they had. I ached to have a toenail painted, to know smooth skin again. If I could just feel the stones under my feet as I waded through the lake one more time.

Today, you couldn’t pick me out in a crowd. I might be more covered up than some. I look as though I’m sun-conscious, worried about overexposure. Everybody’s concerned about the sun’s harmful rays now. You might notice my arms are scarred or that I have a small scar that curves around the right side of my chin, but you wouldn’t think I was too out of the ordinary. I’m not wallowing, shoulders hunched. There is little sign of loss. I’m at the park or the beach herding my kids like every other parent out there, telling them to stop that or shouting good job as they swing from wrung to wrung on the monkey bars. I’m dressed for work, in line at Starbucks picking up my coffee. I’m having a raspberry margarita with friends or shopping, gasping at some cute top.

I want to rush through the summer. I want to sprint ahead and get it over with. To get to my beloved fall, my favorite season by default. But, I need to give summer its due. The season of my rebirth. One beautiful summer evening my life ended as I knew it and another began. I was not stripped of my will. Nobody claimed my soul. It was still my life to do with as I wished. I fought for what was mine. The summer may be bittersweet, but I’m here. I’m rich in choices and family, alive with the knowledge of many summers ahead of me. And I can take the heat, relentless in strength and memories, if I’ve got that.

Kim from Mosey Along and her sister, Lianne wanted to do something for our good friend Anna and her family this holiday season.

“Since we both love photography and have been so touched hearing how the Donaldsons’ friends and neighbours having been using blue ribbons as a way to remember Jack, we decided that might be a way we could offer our love from afar.”

They started a Flickr stream, Blue Ribbons for Jack, for all of the blue ribbons outside of the Donaldson’s neighborhood. Okay – so mine are of the ribbons IN the neighborhood – but I thought people might like to see those too. These three are all tagged “love at the bridge” since that is exactly what they depict: the love that friends and neighbors have shown the grieving family at the bridge where Jack was found after that horrible river swept him away.

Visit either Kim or Lianne to see how you can show your love and support through photography. Obviously talent is not required (see images above). And if you are overwhelmed by the idea of setting up a Flickr account, Kim says in her post that she can upload them for you.

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, and like most others, I’ve been thinking about gratitude.

A couple of months ago, my good friend, Anna lost her twelve year old son in a flash flood. And it was yet another reminder to live in the moment – be grateful for everything I have right now, this very minute. I thought I had a good handle on those priorities before…but this? THIS?? This was an invaluable lesson on appreciation for what truly matters in life. I would give it back in a heartbeat if I could…but since that’s not possible, I’ll settle for the wisdom. And I’ll be so, so grateful for this one more day with my children.

On the flipside though, this horrible loss was a sledgehammer blow to my already cracked and crumbling belief in magic. I know that I once thought anything was possible – that magic could always intervene at the eleventh hour. But I’ve become more cynical over the years. For both good reasons and bad, I stopped believing in magic. And this senseless tragedy offered some serious validation of that attitude.

But leave it to the children to help us find magic in the world.

Anna’s ten year old daughter, Margaret is a bright, shining sparkler of a girl. And even in her own crushing grief over the loss of her only sibling, she’s managed to find ways to make her parents smile.

One day her Dad asked for a list of things she wanted from the store. Here is what she gave him:

The last, most important item on the list isn’t possible. Not even magic could bring her brother back. But the one before that….

When Anna posted that picture above, she had no idea how many people would take it seriously. Take it to Twitter. Write e-mails. Beg favors… People really thought this was possible. And that’s one of the things I like about people: they believe in magic. They make me want to believe too.

It’s a long story – and many of us have written various parts of it. But the end result was this:

In response to the outpouring of tweets and e-mails – or possible because of just one called in favor (who knows – and does it really matter?), Coca-Cola and Dick Clark Productions arranged for Margaret and her parents to fly to California and attend the American Music Awards. And as if that wasn’t enough, there was even an opportunity for Margaret to meet Justin.

I don’t know about you – the the fact that this seemingly impossible thing ACTUALLY HAPPENED makes me believe in magic.

…and in the heat of the moment, I said “I’m in!” Because, you know – that was really going to be the effort that pushed this movement forward…

Sigh. So without further ado, here is my very amateur, very poorly lit (despite those extra lamps I strategically placed in the room!) thank you vlog to Justin:

I’ve said before the camera doesn’t love me. But seriously – I’m not doing myself any favors here. Why didn’t I apply a little lipstick? Perhaps some concealer? They say the camera adds ten pounds, but how about ten YEARS! Oh well – my lack of star quality isn’t the real story here (just a riveting sub-plot that we can discuss later). I’m posting that silly video in honor of the seemingly impossible actually happening.

In honor of magic.

I’m so grateful that something good and hopeful and magical happened to my friend’s daughter. Her family needed it. Their story isn’t over yet, and this is tangible proof that good things can happen too. That they will again.

And that is a very good reason for giving thanks.

*The “Belieber” posts are already going up! Mama Mary was the first. Funny Girl, Lizz actually used a “live impersonator” in her vlog! Minky will post her’s tonight or tomorrow. I’m going to link to all of them here – so let me know if you have one too.

**In full disclosure, I have to admit that the Justin Bieber poster is no longer on Eleanor’s door. She felt it was a little “too boy-sie” for her girly room. So instead we donated to a teenage neighbor named Emily who was eager to give it a good home.

***In case you are wondering where you can buy a Justin Bieber poster, I found mine at Michael’s. I first tried Target, but they don’t sell posters. I also burst into tears in Target while explaining to the twins why we needed a Justin Bieber poster. They both thought it was a good story, but due to my being a bit choked up while telling it, George now believes that beavers were somehow involved.

I have to confess – I saw pictures of Justin Bieber in US Weekly magazine long before I ever heard any of his music. And the only opinion I’ve ever had on his fame is that people are CRAY-CRAY with all of that hate/death to Bieber stuff. He’s just a kid! So weird…

But lately I’ve been thinking a lot about JB.

I read this post last Friday on An Inch of Gray, and for the very first time wished that I had some Justin Bieber connections. Did you read that post? No? Do that now, then come back.

After reading that, I did something that took very little effort. I sent a few tweets to my small list of followers.

I’m going to be very honest. That was all I had planned to do. I generally assume that I’m not important enough to ask for special favors. From anyone really. I just thought I’d put it out there and someone else might make something happen.

And I’m going to be even more honest. I never really believed that anything would come of it. Because I don’t believe in magic. I don’t believe in miracles. I say I do – and I want to – but in the darkest places of my heart, I’m a pessimist. I don’t believe that the impossible can happen. It can’t right? Isn’t that what “impossible” means?

But then I kept reading the comments about people e-mailing Ellen and tweeting Usher. I saw people talking about it on Twitter. I saw FaceBook posts. So I thought I’d make one more weak gesture and e-mailed a list of friends and contacts that Anna and I share. I asked them to check out her post if they hadn’t already seen it – and to work every contact they might have (since Anna and I know some well connected people…)

And strangely enough, they weren’t nearly as pessimistic about the idea as I was. They were excited (actually using words like “exciting“). They really thought Justin Bieber reaching out to Margaret was possible.

This humbled me. I was ashamed to have made such a passive effort to help. To assume defeat before even trying.

And as a just punishment, one of the Project Bieber enthusiasts (Loukia) sent me an e-mail address for Eric Alper, someone she knows in “the industry.” Like she expected ME to make something happen. I don’t think I’ve ever made anything happen in my entire life – life happens TO me.

This had me reeling. But what could I do? I sent him an e-mail. Here is what I wrote:

Hi Eric!

Thank you so much for forwarding your e-mail.

I’ve never actually tried to get in touch with a pop star on behalf of a ten year old girl before…so I’m not sure where to start… But here is a brief overview:

I made a dear friend through blogging over the past few years named Anna Donaldson. On September 8th, she lost her twelve year old son, Jack in the DC area floods. Here is a link to the Washington Post article.

While Anna’s blog was semi-anonymous and had a small following, the media coverage (and social media coverage: blog posts and tweets linking the story to her blog) more or less outed her. This ended up being an unexpected blessing in that her family found great comfort in the outpouring of supportive comments and e-mails.

The main thing that has been keeping Anna and her husband alive over the past few weeks though, is their daughter Margaret. They want to do everything they can to help her through this horrible time and ensure a happy future for her.

I think they have every reason to expect that this is possible since Margaret has amazing strength of character. She’s a fighter. And at only ten years old, she’s managed to make her parents laugh every day – when all they really want to do is cry. Anna has shared a couple of these moments on her blog. And today she posted a picture of a list Margaret wrote for her father to take to the store. As you can see, she jokingly mentioned Justin Bieber.

But it made a lot of us think. Why not ask? Who knows – maybe if someone knew someone who knew someone… Maybe he really would do something to acknowledge Margaret and give her something to feel happy about during the absolute worst month of her life. It would be something for her to hold onto – proof that good things happen too. And while no celebrity in the world could possibly make up for this terrible loss, it’s the unexpected moments of happiness that get them through the day. My guess is that any attention from Justin Bieber could get Margaret through the week…

She’s an extraordinary little girl. But she’s also just a little girl grieving the loss of her brother and best friend. She has plenty of spunk and the resilience of youth. But she is getting through this one day at a time, just like her parents.

I’d like to help. And if that means writing fan mail to Justin Bieber (I mean – I’m almost 40!) I’ll do it. I’ll follow up on any lead and e-mail any stranger – including you!

So thank you for taking the time to listen and help if you can. If you can’t – I understand. I have no idea who knows who in this industry. But I so appreciate your willingness to listen.

Hope to hear from you soon,

-Kate Coveny Hood

Eric was lovely about it. He replied right away and was both kind and honest. He said he would make sure that JB’s management and PR people would read my message, but “what happens after that is magic really.”

Oh. Magic.

So this is where I typically call it a day. I don’t believe in magic, right? But here’s the thing – the fact that this e-mail exchange actually happened felt pretty extraordinary to me.

The fact that a friend e-mailed me to say she has a famous Twitter friend who might be able to help.

The fact that another friend has connections to a babysitter as well as other possible contacts.

The fact that a non-blogging friend commented on my FaceBook post that she has a friend who knows Justin Bieber and will talk to him.

The fact that people are doing things. They’re making things happen. It feels maybe just a little magical to me.

So I’m not giving up. Instead, I’m writing this. And not because I think it’s enough (it’s not) – but it’s a start. Someone who reads it might know someone who knows someone…

And even if that’s not you – you can still help. You can talk about it. Maybe if enough voices are out there…

So here is what everyone who reads this should do:

1. Follow @JBLiftMargaret (J and M’s Auntie: hoping to lift up Margaret. Her big brother died on Sept 8 in VA flooding. She’d love to meet Justin Bieber! Please help bring her a smile!! http://tinyurl.com/3bvr762)

2. Tell all of your Twitter contacts to do the same.

3. Tweet about it.

4. RT any other tweets you see about it

(okay – you get the idea…they need more followers)

5. Do whatever you can to get the word out on FaceBook. I’m somewhat FB challenged – so you will have to ask others for specific advice on this…

6. Blog about it (why not? I did)

7. E-mail Ellen (I haven’t done that yet – but I will in a minute)

8. E-mail everyone you know. You never know who they know…

9. Anything else? Please leave suggestions in comments.

The reason I included the text of that e-mail I wrote above is that I’m now considering it an open letter to everyone who might possibly be able to help. A “Dear Sir or Madam.” Like a letter to the universe (blogosphere?)

I still feel the limitations of “impossible”…I don’t believe in magic or miracles. But I do believe in people. And I believe in you. Us. We. And there’s a lot of possibility there.

I also believe in Margaret. For her sake alone I’ll try to believe that nothing about this is impossible. So if you have any magic up your sleeve, please help. Add your voice. And you never know – maybe we really can make a difference.

UPDATE: Anna actually posted more about the Twitter effort – it includes great info on the accounts (JB, his mom, his manger, etc.) that you should be tweeting! Check itoutHERE.

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Kate Coveny Hood

Hi! I'm Kate, a mother of three who wages a daily battle against wrinkles, dust, a lack of personal time and the constant arrows that having a special needs child shoots directly into one’s heart. I first hit publish on The Big Piece of Cake in 2008 when I planned to write "a humor blog." Since then I've lost any semblance of focus. Sometimes I say interesting things...and sometimes I just say things. Visit me here for varying levels of insight and over sharing.